


Page By Page

by FairyLights101



Series: Matsuhanaiwaoi Week 2017 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:05:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyLights101/pseuds/FairyLights101
Summary: One page at a time they show Oikawa how much he means, and one page at a time he falls a little more in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Seijoh 4 Week Day 2: Note Passing

Oikawa pressed his face into his hands and drew in a weak, shaky breath. His ankle throbbed, almost like it was taunting him, and he scowled down at it before he covered the world with his fingers. He didn’t want to see that offensive body part. Didn’t want to be reminded as to why his body didn’t ache from being battered at a long day of practice. Why exhaustion didn’t drag at his eyes and mind. Why his homework had been completed hours ago because he had nothing better to do than sit like a deadass and wait. 

Coach Irihata had ordered him to go straight home and rest there, at least for one day, and Oikawa knew it was for his benefit, but he just felt bitter about the whole damn situation. He’d fucked up his knee the year before, and now he’d pulled a muscle in his ankle. On the same damn leg to boot.  _ The fucking luck. _

He threw himself back on his bed and draped his arms over his face, eyes in the crook of his elbow, the weight familiar. That and the pitch black made it easier to let go. Hot tears trickled out, and within seconds his arm was damp as his body hitched with quiet sobs. Tremors rocked him as he tugged on his hair, ground his teeth together and choked on silent cries. His parents and sister couldn’t hear - they didn’t need to know he was breaking apart, especially not over something so  _ stupid.  _

_ It’s a miracle I’ve made it this far. I just keep fucking my body up. I’m no competition for fucking geniuses, and if I work hard to try and be I just end up breaking myself. So much fucking bullshit. I’ve worked so fucking hard, but it’s not going to matter. _ There would always be a genius looming over his shoulder. One with blue eyes and a shitty personality that was  _ still _ better than his own. There would always be other players from greater teams watching him.  _ “You should have come to Shiratorizawa.” _ How many times had he heard those infuriating words? As though the choice he had made was  _ wrong _ . As bad as the work he put into the sport he adored so much, as the attitude he showed off to the world, brittle but secure. 

“Fuck,” he croaked with a sniffle. He pulled his arms back, one soaked with tears, and dragged his hands across his damp face. It was just an injury, and a minor one at that - nowhere near as bad as his knee had been. And yet the insecurities dragged at him with claw-tipped fingers, coaxing him further and further over the edge. Because an injury meant no practice. No practice meant no improvement. No improvement meant he would fall behind and eventually freeze on the steps of progress, doomed to watch Kageyama and all the rest march on. 

_ I hate this. _

A bitter laugh bubbled up. Fresh tears slipped down his temples. “Fuck this shit.” He rocked up and slouched over, elbows in his knees, weight off his ankle. Fingers dug at his face, scrubbed tears and snot away. 

A knock made him flinch. 

“Yo, Trashykawa.” That voice punched all the air out of him and his mouth fell open, flopped like a damn fish. “Lemme in.” 

His hands shook as he rose and frantically rifled around until he found the towel he’d dried his hair with that morning. He scrubbed it across his face, sniffed once more, and then limped over to the door, unlocked it, and threw it open. He blinked, surprised as he counted three heads, not one, but he didn’t move. “What do you want?” he grumbled. His nose crinkled after a moment. “You guys stink.” 

Iwaizumi swatted his shoulder, his expression humorless as he glared at Oikawa. “You know we showered there, asshole.” 

He cracked a weak smile - it was stupid, he knew Iwaizumi would see right through it. He knew his best friend had already spotted the redness of his eyes and the flush of his cheeks, but he didn’t care. He just wanted them  _ gone _ \- but instead Makki, Mattsun, and Iwaizumi stood in his doorway, clearly showing no intentions of leaving. He sighed. “Whatever.” 

Oikawa limped back over to his bed and flopped back down, pressed his back into the corner of the wall and headboard and stretched his leg out as his friends spilled into the room. Mattsun shut the door and took the edge of the bed. Makki settled himself on Oikawa’s desk chair and pulled his knees up, hugged them close as he fiddled with pens and erasers Oikawa had left out. Iwaizumi leaned against his dresser, arms folded tight over his chest. 

“Here to study?” he said after a minute. 

Mattsun snorted, chuckling as he raked his fingers through his hair. “You fucking wish,” the middle blocker said, “Studying is for nerds. Specifically, nerds in  _ college prep classes _ .” 

“Yes,” Oikawa sighed, exasperated, “Which Iwa and I are  _ in _ .” 

“And that’s why we copy your homework,” Makki chirped with a cheery grin. “But nah, we just wanted to see our favorite asshole - sorry, I meant  _ setter _ . Captain. Teammate. Best friend. You get the picture.” 

Oikawa managed a laugh, but it felt hollow in his chest, and it just left him aching as he shook his head and dropped a hand down to rub at his knee. “What, did you miss me?”  _ That _ made him want to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it.  _ There’s no way they’d miss me. I’m an asshole, and a bother. _ Iwaizumi told him as much every time he got caught up with a gaggle of girls who wanted his attention when all  _ he _ wanted was to be on the court - or surrounded by his three friends. Or when he got injured or sick and couldn’t practice. Oikawa’s hand clenched. 

“More than you could possibly imagine,” Mattsun cried, mockingly pitiful, and he grinned sleepily at Oikawa. “Nah, we just wanted to see how you were doing. Oh, and the team wanted to do something for you.” 

The setter blinked as Mattsun hauled his backpack up from the floor and rummaged through it for a moment before he pulled out a stack of papers with a cheery card on top, and he shoved them to Oikawa. “Read!” Eyes narrowed, he inspected each of his friends, who stared expectantly at him, before he looked down, took the stack, and started to go through them. 

There was a card on top, a handmade one with  _ “Get well, asshole” _ scrawled on the front in Iwaizumi’s familiar script. Inside lay a dozen signatures, along with a handful of small drawings - a detailed penis beside Mattsun’s name, a dog by Kyoutani’s, though Makki had probably done that since the dog and Makki’s signature were in pink, then a peace sign beside Yahaba’s. Even the coaches, advisor, and managers had signed it. 

Oikawa raised his head, opened his mouth, but his friends only grinned and pointed down, and he narrowed his eyes at them before he continued to read. Another card was beneath that, this time from his own classroom, and a nicer one at that. Store-bought, and filled with names. A lot of the girls had drawn hearts or cute little animals or sweets beside their names, and some of the guys had doodled sports equipment and cute things too. Little blurbs too, quick  _ “I hope you heal quickly” _ ’s and  _ “Good luck, Oikawa!” _ ’s. His hands tightened, crumpled the letter, just a little. He swallowed hard as his ankle throbbed and he set the card to the side. Letters this time. Handwritten and hastily scribbled. Iwaizumi’s writing. 

> _ Yo, shithead, I know you got yourself hurt, but you’ll be fine, you hear me? It’s just a sprain. You’ll be alright, so stop beating yourself up about shit you can’t help. Remember when I fucked up my shoulder? You didn’t let me be an asshole to myself, so you stop too. Don’t push us away, or I  _ _ will _ _ kick your ass. It’ll heal and you’ll be back on the court before you know it, so be patient for once in your fucking life. Focus on healing. We’re going to play Karasuno soon, and if you don’t play in a single set I’ll be the one to kick you across the football field. _

Oikawa clamped his hand over his mouth as laughter threatened to bubble out, and he looked to Iwaizumi. His friend had looked away, cheeks pink and fingers tapping away at his bicep in embarrassment. Oikawa smiled, and this time it felt less fragile, more genuine. “Iwa,” he said softly, “You’re so mean.” His friend just flipped him off and Oikawa smirked before he shuffled that to the side and looked to the next one. 

Makki’s writing was even worse than Oikawa’s, but it was legible at least, though he liked to punctuate things with different colors, and the margins were filled with cute, elegant little doodles. An eye in the upper left, a tree down in the lower right. Flowers bloomed between the spaces where he’d skipped lines, and a hand with a middle finger raised.  _ Typical Makki. _

> _ O-I-K-A-W-A! T-O-O-R-U! Is! A! Nerd! Seriously tho, u are and just accept it, ya?❀◕ ‿ ◕❀ Like, help me with my homework pls. I’m dying over here man aaaah. Shit, right, this is supposed to be a “get well” kinda card… oops?(*￣∀￣)  I think Iwaizumi would beat me up if I didn’t, but eh, I can handle being murdered by him. I mean, crushed by those arms or thighs? PLEASE. Oh. Shit. Hopefully he doesn’t read this. Eh, oh well. I can fight him!!!(๑و•̀ω•́)و Right…? _
> 
> _ O!!!! I’m really gonna miss you at practice today tbh. Yahaba’s tosses are okay, but he’s probably gonna get distracted because Kyoutani still isn’t back (I think he just wants to stare at Mad Dog’s ass, but that’s just me. Can’t blame him tho, Kyouken has a nice butt. So does Mattsun. And Iwaizumi. And you. Everyone has a nice butt??? I want to slap them all?? Please help??(´;ω;｀) ) But yeah. Practice. Missing you. But hey, at least you won’t be there to yell at me and have me do flying dives! Actually, I think Iwa is gonna make me do those… you owe me cream puffs because he’s gonna be such a hardass aaaaah… _
> 
> _ BUT!!!! You’d better get well soon so I can harass you on the court with Issei! I think that’s gonna suck the most, the fact that we can’t make fun of you. Like? The fact that you spend an hour on your hair every morning? So funny. And Issei and I had some great pranks planned (but you don’t need to know about that). Just get better soon you nerdlord!!! _
> 
> _ PS… If you don’t come back I’m stealing your jersey and becoming honorary captain(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) _

Makki’s eyes were on him when he looked up, and Oikawa had to bite his cheek, eyes burning once more. He wanted to cry. He wanted to wrap his friend up in a tight hug and bury his face into his neck. He wanted to tell Makki how much he meant, how much those  _ stupid words _ meant. “You’re an idiot,” he croaked instead. 

Makki blew him a kiss and wiggled his fingers. “I know you love me,” he teased. 

Oikawa’s stomach flipped.  _ No, you really don’t. _ Makki was blissfully unaware, just like Iwaizumi and Mattsun were, innocent to the crushes he harbored to the three of them. The same ones he’d been nursing for years. The ones that made his stomach twist and his chest go all fuzzy every time they smiled at him or touched him or got close -  _ anything  _ really. Oikawa didn’t respond to that. He just dropped his head, fingers twitching along the paper, and after a moment he shuffled it to the side for the last note. Mattsun’s. Of the three, his writing was the best, almost as elegant as Oikawa’s. He always liked to write in blue or black pen, which left smudges all over his fingers that sometimes even survived the rigors and sweat of practice. 

> _ I don’t understand why we’re writing you notes - I mean, we’re coming to see your dumb pretty face after class and practice, so fuck if I know the point of this. Uuuh… Anyways, I guess get better ‘n all that? TBH lunch was really weird without you. I mean, Makki and I still joked and Iwa still fussed at us, but it was weird without you laughing and teasing us too. Practice is gonna be weird too cause I won’t get to slap your ass and be a dick to you. Great, you had to go and get hurt… Just kidding, you’ll be back before you know it, and then you can get back to whipping us into shape (joy). Kidding. Maybe. Get better, asshole _

Oikawa grabbed a pillow and chucked it at Mattsun, who burst into giggles as he clutched it to his chest. He wanted to laugh, but the burn in his eyes was too much, the tightness in his chest was overwhelming. The brunet pulled one leg in and wrapped his arms around his face, hiding away as fresh tears seared their way out. His shoulders hitched and he sniffled quietly, lips and fingers shaking. 

Warm hands brushed across his body, three on his back, one on his calf, another on his bicep, and another still around his knee. “Oikawa?” Iwaizumi said softly, concern laced tight through his voice, “Tooru?” 

He trembled and drew in a jagged breath that scraped his throat and lungs raw, but he held it there, tried to push back the encroaching panic attack, the feeling of being completely  _ overwhelmed _ . But their touches steadied him, tethered him to a ground he’d started to drift away from, and they kept him from tipping over. It couldn’t stop the tears, but they didn’t say anything, just rubbed his back and limbs, reassurances dripping from every touch. It took a few minutes, but he managed to pull his head up and scrub at his cheeks as a weak laugh bubbled out. “Sorry,” he mumbled, their faces hidden in the darkness from his palms, “I’m a pretty ugly crier, huh?” 

A long, slender hand curled around his wrist - Makki’s - and gently tugged. Oikawa let him pull it away. Mattsun’s shorter, warmer hand mirrored that until he was fully exposed to the three, all eyes on him. He sniffed. Makki smiled. “I dunno, you’ve got a pretty cute crying face to me.” 

“You’re a perv,” he shot back with a weak smack to Makki’s thigh, but the teen only giggled and leaned in close. His arms wrapped tight around Oikawa, secure and warm, his head right beneath Oikawa’s chin so he could smell the coconut shampoo he used, sweet and familiar. Mattsun leaned in on the other side, bringing with him an even warmer, tighter, and spicer-smelling. And then the bed shifted as Iwaizumi moved forward, straddled his legs, and embraced him from the front. His eyes prickled. Oikawa smiled. 

“I love you guys.” 

“Gay,” Mattsun breathed. 

“Very,” he laughed back, and the others squeezed him tighter. All he could do was sink into the warmth of their embraces and let his head loll onto theirs, basking in the love and warmth they gave him, the pieces slowly falling back into place, shutting the insecurities out for another time.  _ God bless you guys. _

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of note passing? Yes.  
> Hit me up at [fairylights101writes](http://fairylights101writes.tumblr.com/)  
> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment.


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